1997 LT100: Three Cantina Betties, and training broccoli

July 25  or so, 1997.
First the froth of sin.

The running is good up here, and the betty-sightings are almost epic. Ask Leslie about the Three Cantina Betties. The curly-haired brunette ["Teach Me"], the lush and languid strawberry blonde ["Fuck Me Slow"], and finally the sizzling Latina ["Fuck Me Hard And You Better Not Quit"]. Leslie was cracking up laughing while these 3 criss-crossed the restaurant. I of course was merely appreciating their youthful...enthusiasm. And their combined ages still couldn't get them into MediCare. 

[now to the grim broccoli of training, et merde]

July 28 97

Kampers:

When we last left our hapless hero he was comparing notes on the Three Cantina Betties. With that out of the way for now, he turned his manly attention to the business of running. Oh yes, that.

With Jimbo Schedule firmly in hand, the other hand, Sat July 26 commenced with a Double: 25miles AM, 20miles PM. When I awoke at 0300 something in my gut told me I should have woken up earlier. This wisdom was not evident for another 12 hours, but I get ahead of myself.

So, leaving my warm tent at the May Queen CG at 0330, I wind my way back into town and relearn all kinds of things about how the trail looks in the dark, without several hundred champing, eager, ultra-bobs & betties to show the way. Its way different. I get to the required 12.5 mi mark, turn around. I get back around 0815. Damn, I'm weary already.

The coach had specified an 8-hr recovery time. I figured I'd jump the gun somewhat, and start my 20mi segment at 1530 instead of 1600. Did I mention that this 20mi segment was Twin Lakes to Winfield & back? Those in the know can see this one coming, but keep quiet and play along for now.

When I set out across this meadow in 1994, I was young, foolish and the meadow was dry as a bone. 1995 was wet and so is 1997. For those who fastidiously changed their shoes at Ruckychucky this year, you are in for a real treat! Before you get to the main event, a full blown creek crossing there are at least 4 [i lost count...] up-to-the-knee soakers where the water's the thing. Then you get to the creek. It is in full flood and just plain happy to be there.

OK, contour upstream about 200yds, then angle across. Cold water comes perilously close to yr genitalia, but what the hell, you weren't planning on having kids were ya? Good. Now it's time to go up Hope. The rain that has threatened is holding off. Up I go. Surprise! It takes me 2'55" to get to Winfield! Turn around. Start up the other side. I summit Hope Pass in-bound and I look at my watch. Holy Shit! It's now 2015, with about 45 min of light left, and I remember that I carefully removed the AA mini-mag from my pack and left in the trunk of my car!

So now I am treated to a full-on stretch of twilight downhill running, and seeing just how good my incipient night vision is. Luckily it was only drizzling. No thunder and lightning like Wednesday's Mt Elbert descent. I get to the flats just at dark. I am humping along somehow managing not to get caught in gopher holes, following the double-track contours in the drizzling misting darkness.

The water crossings? Oh yeah, just in case I had forgotten, here's one <thigh-high sloshing here>. Repeat 4 or five times. I hear the creek. Hmm, this is gonna be fun. Angle downstream and go for it. Scramble out on the other side, and willow-whack at a diagonal to pick up the double-track again. Did I mention it was offset? The rain is a steady drizzle. I figure the vague trail through the bog from Twin Lakes is more hassle than it's worth, I stay on the double-track and make it to Hiway 82. With any luck I won't get creamed, and I didn't. 

Bonus: I get to follow a bright white edge-line on the highway.

My luck holds when I get back to the Twin Lakes Trail Head 20min later. No locked gates. My solar shower is actually still warm from sitting on the rear deck inside the car. Nobody can see me from the restaurants etc across the highway, so I shower off, buck nekkid, get into dry clothes and realize that Life's Been Good To Me So Far. It is now 2130.

Hell, by 2215 I am back at my campsite, heating up some of Campbell's chunky finest and wolfing it down. I am a dead man by 2300.

Sunday it was only 35mi, which meant a round trip from May Queen to Half Moon. Yawning and resisting the idea, I did it. The day started out cloudy and cool, then turned sunny and hot on the return. Crawling up Hagerman/Sugar Loaf, I watched a Godzilla-sized storm approach. It started to rain, and the hi-tension lines sounded *really* angry. Nothing much happened there, just the usual Rocky Mtn thunder-n-lightning action, with pelting hail and thick rain. Glad I brought my rain gear, it's been getting a workout. Made it back to camp and waited about 20min for the storm to slack so I could sun-shower with tepid water and think about getting clean again. Livin' large takes effort.

So now I'm composing this screed from the coziness of the Leadville Public Library. And as usual, there will be more later.

Yr removed SoCal Lifestyle Correspondent,

lg

July 30 update:

today was Bonk Day, with a sluggish 20mi against a 38mi scheduled run. Some days are like that. Glad taper is starting soon...